


clean out of air

by forestdivinity (ForestDivinity)



Series: Witcher PWP [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scent Kink, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22753627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestDivinity/pseuds/forestdivinity
Summary: Jaskier won't stop talking. Geralt, at the end of his patience, will make him be quiet.He’s still inching his way down into Jaskier’s throat, taking his time to work the tight muscles open, loving the choked little sounds that escape Jaskier. His chin is soaked with spit, the fluid dripping down onto his lace chemise. As always, the little slut has his doublet open, letting anyone see him.“Fuck Jaskier, you’re such a whore.” Geralt growls out again and he can see the way that Jaskier shudders in hungry arousal at his words. His cock is hard in his pants, a visible bulge. Geralt can smell the copious amounts of precum soaking it, the scent hot and heady, but this isn’t about Jaskier; it isn’t about his pleasure. It’s about Geralt getting what he wants.A warning: this is pure filth, and its rough and kinky but it is all consensual and there is tender aftercare in there as well, I promise!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher PWP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635982
Comments: 22
Kudos: 616
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	clean out of air

“Do you ever _shut up_?” Geralt growls out and it’s all Jaskier can do not to melt at the words, staring up at golden eyes as a hand tangles itself far too tight into his hair. 

“Oh, oh, Geralt, don’t stop - ah! - it feels so good, gods I can’t wait to have your cock in me, so fucking thick Geralt!” He’s still babbling even as Geralt pulls his hair hard and drags him forward until his face is buried in the musky crease between his cock and his thick thighs and it must smell good because Jaskier moans. _Melitele, he could break my neck with those_ , Jaskier thinks, and then he shudders with arousal because the thought of being choked out by Geralt’s _thighs_ , shouldn’t be so good. Geralt huffs and wrenches his head back again, forcing Jaskier to look up once more.

“Gonna make you shut up, bard. Finally put that whore’s mouth to good use.” He’s saying and Jaskier is nodding, begging, saying _yes, yes, yes_ , right up until Geralt the moment Geralt forces his cock between Jaskier’s lips. He’s not gentle, not tonight. Jaskier has been riling him up for too long, going on about all the maiden’s he’d bedded in the past, and all the men who’d bedded him too.

Geralt hadn’t liked hearing about all the Lords and Viscounts who’d had Jaskier on his knees, just like this. Hadn’t liked hearing about what a slut Jaskier was - except he really, really had, because it always got his cock hard, hearing about how Jaskier used to spread his legs for anyone. He didn’t get to anymore. Geralt had him instead. And gods, if he wasn’t going to use his boy right.

“Hands down! Or are you that useless you can’t even choke on cock right?” He hisses out when Jaskier goes to steady himself with his hands against Geralt’s thighs. Geralt has barely started and already Jaskier looks wrecked. There’s drool running down his chin, wet and slick, and he swallows rapidly around Geralt’s cock. It is with a whine that he shoves his hands down against his sides and Geralt drags him forward, kicking the bard’s knees apart.

The effect is instantaneous. Jaskier lurches forwards, his body overbalancing, and his pretty poet’s lips are split open as Geralt pushes deeper into his mouth. 

“That’s right, gonna make you cry on my cock, Jaskier. Gonna use that pretty mouth because it’s _mine_ .” He hisses out, grinding himself against the soft palate at the back of Jaskier’s throat. A choked gag leaves the bard. He’s rocking back and forth on his knees and he looks so fucking _good_ , Geralt wants to ruin him. And he will, he promises himself, running a hand down Jaskier’s forehead as he hollows his cheek to suck. It feels good enough that Geralt lets him, just for a few moments. Relaxes as he grinds himself into Jaskier’s hot mouth, groaning as the bard’s tongue rubs over the thick vein on the underside of his cock. It’s hot and wet and tight and Geralt is barely halfway in yet. Some days that’s as far as he goes, happy to let Jaskier suck at his own pace, use his hand on what he can’t get down. 

Not today. Today Geralt is going to fuck that pretty face until Jaskier remembers just who he belongs to. The thought makes the blood pound in his ears and he’s deceptively gentle for a few moments, stroking Jaskier’s hair and cooing to him softly.

“Is that nice, buttercup, you like having my cock in your mouth? Nice and thick, filling it up?” He asks in a soft voice, rocking slowly in and out. Jaskier moans around his cock, the sound making his mouth buzz over Geralt’s cock, and he looks up with bright eyed adoration. The look almost makes Geralt sympathetic. 

Almost.

And then he tangles Jaskier’s hair in his bruising grip again and shoves him forward with another throaty growl. Jaskier chokes and gags as Geralt begins to push into his throat proper it makes him squeeze so tight around the thick head of Geralt’s cock, but he doesn’t try to pull away. That pleases Geralt and he smirks. Jaskier is trying so, _so_ hard to be good, but Geralt isn’t going to let him. He doesn’t want _good_ today, he just wants to see Jaskier cry. 

“That’s because you’re nothing more than a cock hungry whore, baby.” He whispers, voice simperingly sweet as he plants himself still and begins to shove Jaskier up and down his cock.

Once upon a time this violent side of him would have scared Geralt. Would have made him force Jaskier away, worried he was going to hurt his lover. But they’ve been together for decades now and they’ve spoken long and serious on such topics. Geralt knows that Jaskier likes to be hurt sometimes. Likes to be brutalised, be treated like he’s nothing. He isn’t. To Geralt he’s everything, but they can pretend.

And he would be lying if he said he didn’t like to rough Jaskier up a bit, because _fuck_ if the bard doesn’t look gorgeous after Geralt has broken him.

He’s still inching his way down into Jaskier’s throat, taking his time to work the tight muscles open, loving the choked little sounds that escape Jaskier. His chin is soaked with spit, the fluid dripping down onto his lace chemise. As always, the little slut has his doublet open, letting anyone see him.

“Fuck Jaskier, you’re such a whore.” Geralt growls out again and he can see the way that Jaskier shudders in hungry arousal at his words. His cock is hard in his pants, a visible bulge. Geralt can smell the copious amounts of precum soaking it, the scent hot and heady, but this isn’t about Jaskier; it isn’t about his pleasure. It’s about Geralt getting what he wants.

And what he wants is to fuck Jaskier’s brains out with his cock. So that’s what he’s going to do.

The power is intoxicating. By the time he’s finally bottomed out in Jaskier, the bard is shuddering as he gags on Geralt’s cock, tongue rubbing against Geralt even as he struggles to breathe. The bard has a talented mouth, and not just for singing. Luckily for him, he has an impressive set of lungs too, because Geralt doesn’t want to pull out of this tight, wet, heat. 

“That’s right, you were made for this. Made to suck my cock.” Geralt groans out and he can hear Jaskier make a muffled sound of agreement, nose buried in the sweaty curls at the base of Geralt’s cock. Fuck, that’s a pretty sight. Geralt hasn’t been this hard in an age. It has been a while since they’ve gotten to play properly. Sure, they fuck a lot. Jaskier is insatiable and Geralt is a Witcher. Neither of them like to hold off on sex. 

But this is something different. This is Jaskier giving himself up to Geralt, letting himself be used like nothing more than a toy. This is Geralt giving into every filthy urge he’s had since the minute he’d met the bard, decades ago now. This is primal and filthy, the things that real, actual whores hesitate to do.

Geralt loves it.

“Hope you’re ready, buttercup, cause I’m gonna break you.” Geralt growls and he practically rips Jaskier off his cock by his hair, resulting in a slick, wet, pop that sounds utterly pornographic to Geralt’s ears. Jaskier coughs and splutters. There is drool dripping down his chin and his mouth his bright red, lips bruised. He gasps for breath like a fish out of water and Geralt leans down to give him a messy, bruising kiss. 

  
Jaskier, bless him, is so far gone that he lets Geralt ravage his mouth without even putting up a fight. He goes limp against the hand in his hair and whimpers against Geralt’s lips, swaying on his knees. 

“Hands behind your back.” Geralt barks out when he finally pulls away and Jaskier groans but clasps his hands behind his back. He has no way to support himself, giving himself entirely over to Geralt. 

He’s stunning.

“G-Geralt…” Jaskier’s voice is bruised and throaty and he’s staring up at Geralt with his mouth open and his tongue poking out. Geralt snarls, reaches out, and grabs the offending muscle with his tongue and squeezes it between his thumb and his forefinger.

“Don’t fucking speak! You’re nothing more than a pretty face for me to fuck, I don’t need to hear you talking.” Jaskier is twisting on his knees, letting out high whines as Geralt pinches. More drool comes leaking out of his mouth, making a mess of them both and Geralt holds him in place like that until Jaskier is panting in pain and pleasure and Geralt can’t resist any longer.

He rips his fingers out of his mouth and shoves his cock back into Jaskier’s mouth, setting a punishing pace as he thrusts in and out. He tangles his spit soaked fingers back into Jaskier’s hair, gripping him with both hands as he shoves the bard onto his cock. It’s fucking brutal. Jaskier gasps for air every chance he gets and his chest heaves as he gags around Geralt but his hands stay firmly clasped behind his back and he never uses their signal.

“Look at you, Jaskier, so fucking desperate. So hungry for cock. Should keep you on your knees, ready to fuck whenever I want.” Geralt is sure to be bruising his throat but he plows forward anyway, and there are hot tears rushing down Jaskier’s face. He’s flushed dark red, throat squeezing around Geralt. He’s a mess. Absolutely filthy. Geralt pulls out just to smear precum and spit over Jaskier’s face, adding his own mix to the mess and Jaskier gulps for air. 

He’s too far gone to even think of speaking. Geralt rubs Jaskier’s slick face over his cock, rubbing precum under his nose, making sure that all Jaskier can think about is _Geralt_. His taste, his scent. Hungry, wet whines leave Jaskier as Geralt decorates him and Geralt chuckles, low and deep.

“You want me back in you, baby? Need my cock in your throat?” He teases, pulling Jaskier’s head back to reveal the pale expanse of his throat, cock resting against the bard’s plush mouth. Jaskier is moaning, trying to nod, but he can barely move against Geralt’s iron grip. He’s so desperate that Geralt can see his hips twitching against the air, _but_ , Geralt thinks, _he won’t get to cum tonight_. 

“Too bad I decide when you get to choke on me.” He hisses out after a moment, shoving Jaskier against his balls, moaning as Jaskier licks without even being asked. His bard is a brat, most of the time. He’s stubborn and arrogant, and a prissy little bastard to the boot. At least, until Geralt works him down, breaks him open, and reveals his sweet little core. Then he’s willing to do anything for Geralt. And he means _anything_. Sometimes that scares him, how far Jaskier can drop, how much he’s willing to give. 

They’re not pushing any new boundaries tonight though, so Geralt is quite happy to take what he needs. It is just luck then, that a good hard throat fuck is just what Jaskier needs as well. 

He grinds himself down against Jaskier, encourages him to lick the sweat from his skin. They had both bathed earlier that evening, so he’s clean enough, but he wouldn’t do this covered in muck and guts. The taste must still be strong though, musky and masculine, a mix of sweat and sex. Jaskier is moaning as he sucks on Geralt’s balls, getting them shiny with spit, glassy eyed with desire. 

It’s too much. Geralt is painfully hard. Swiftly, he pulls Jaskier up again and holds his jaw tight to see his mouth open, tongue poking out again. The sight almost makes him blow his load there and then. Jaskier is thoroughly debauched, breathing heavy, covered in slick fluids. His hair is a mess, sticking up around Geralt’s fingers, and his chemise and doublet are both covered in drool. It is such a contrast to his usual, put together self, that Geralt has to strain not to cum before he gets inside Jaskier again.

“Such a slut.” He growls out and his voice sounds animalistic to his own ears. A violent shiver of need goes through Jaskier and then Geralt releases his jaw and thrusts back inside. He knows he’s not going to last long. Jaskier is all but sobbing now as he pounds into his throat. Choking moans leave him and Geralt reaches down to pinch his nose shut. The action makes Jaskier writhe and his throat clenches beautifully around Geralt. It’s so slick and hot.

“You better swallow, buttercup.” Is all Geralt manages to get out before he’s spilling down Jaskier’s throat, letting go of his nose as the bard begins to swallow like a starving man, practically sucking Geralt’s life out through his cock. Despite his best efforts though, more than a little spills out from between his lips as Geralt pulls back. It’s not his fault, because Geralt is a Witcher and when he cums, it is with far more fluid than a normal man. It isn’t his fault but it still makes Geralt growl as he swipes up the pearly drops with his thumb and shoves it into Jaskier’s mouth as soon as it is empty. 

“I said swallow.” He tells Jaskier and Jaskier sobs as he licks him clean. His poor bard is still throbbing and hard between his legs, hips hips stuttering back and forth in aborted movements. Once Geralt’s thumb is clean he tugs it out and watches with impassive eyes.

“Please… Geralt please.” Jaskier begs after a few long moments where Geralt just watches him. His voice is hoarse and faint, having all been all but fucked out of him.

“Hmm…” Geralt draws the sound out, low and slow, and Jaskier sobs, his arms still clutched behind his back, knees spread so wide. There is a slick wet patch on the front of his breeches but Geralt knows he hasn’t cum. 

“I need, I need it, please Geralt.” He begs again and he looks so pretty that Geralt almost gives in, except -

Except he’ll look even prettier if Geralt makes him wait. And Geralt loves him, adores Jaskier with all his heart. But he likes teasing him too.

“No.” He says simply and Jaskier lets out a wail that cracks and breaks because his poor throat has been fucked into oblivion by a monster, but he doesn’t beg again. He knows it won’t get him anywhere. Geralt watches for a minute as Jaskier pants and fights to get himself under control, his hips bucking into the air. It takes a little while, but once Jaskier is still and quiet, bar his still gulping breaths, he picks the bard up in his arms and carefully strips him. 

It takes very little time to wipe his face and brush his fluffy hair out. Jaskier is hard through most of it, but slowly his cock softens, because he is only a human and he can’t stay hard forever. Geralt coos at him and holds him close, feeding him cool grapes and hot, honey tea until Jaskier has stopped trembling like a leaf and is merely rubbing up against him like a content cat. 

“There we go,” Geralt murmurs, letting Jaskier curl into his side as his pretty eyes slip shut, “rest now.” He tells Jaskier and he lets out a soft sound of agreement. He’s utterly boneless against Geralt, and through all the cuddles and kisses he doesn’t say a word, his mind obviously floating in that soft, hazy space. 

When he wakes up the next morning, Geralt has no doubt he’ll be a brat again. Geralt will stroke his cock until he’s aching, and likely decide to deny him again. He likes to do that, deny Jaskier. Keep him waiting.

_But_ , he thinks, _maybe I won’t_. 

He likes seeing Jaskier satisfied too, after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing the next chapter of To Build a Home, but I wrote this instead. So I hope you like it ;) Comments are always well appreciated and will encourage me to write more filth. What would you guys want to see next? Let me know!
> 
> Follow me on @ashayathyla on tumblr if you ever wanna chat!


End file.
